


Emergency Stop

by procrastination_station



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Desperation, Humiliation, Omorashi, Wetting, mostly??, omo the garden wall, wirt omo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 05:05:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2609582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastination_station/pseuds/procrastination_station
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could ask Beatrice to stop if he wanted, but that would be weird. And awkward. And embarrassing. And the thought of letting her know that he needs to go puts a blush on his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emergency Stop

The Unknown, what all these creatures and people keep calling it, is very large. And, well. Unknown. Weird bugs flutter around his head, and he thinks he may hear voices coming from the trees, crying.  
  
He's sort of getting used to it, though. He doesn't scream when things scurry over his feet or jump at every little crackle and whisper of the foliage around them at least.   
  
He's getting used to something else too. Everything happened too much for him to pay attention to it earlier, but there's a definite pressure in his lower abdomen. 

In any other place, he'd have taken care of it by now, but this is obviously not any other place. His main priorities, which have originally been to figure out what the heck they're doing and not die, have quickly shifted gears. He walks with his legs pushed together more than strictly necessary.  
  
"Hey, why're you walking all funny?" Greg suddenly chirps, scooping up - what is it, George Washington now? - from the ground and giving him a curious look.  
  
"I'm not," Wirt says, and promptly returns to a regular stride. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn't remember the last time he went to the bathroom (He thinks he might have lost it when the crazy wolf dog thing jumped out at them, but they had fallen in a pond, so their clothes became wet anyway). All he knows is that his bladder is very full right now, and Beatrice's relentless pace isn't helping.  
  
Greg begins to sing. How does he not have to pee yet? Wirt grimaces and tries to reassure himself. They'll have to take a break sooner or later; Beatrice can't fly forever.   
  
But Beatrice alights on Greg's "hat" (complaining about how he won't stop bouncing around), and they walk, and they walk. Time passes, and they don't take a break.   
  
It has to be at least a half hour that passes. He feels exceedingly desperate, putting more bounce into his step so he can shift around without squirming outright. The contents of his perilously-full bladder slosh around and send urgent signals throughout his body.  
  
This is, unfortunately, a familiar feeling. He's too uncomfortable to speak up when he needs to use the bathroom, mostly because he feels like other people don't really need to know when he needs to pee. It's weird. And awkward. And embarrassing. (Plus Beatrice doesn't need something else to mess with him for.) This reluctance to speak up has caused few close calls, but he'll say something if he absolutely has to.

  
"So, hey, Beatrice," he begins casually, squeezing his thighs together when neither the bird nor his brother are looking, "we've been waking for a while now. Why don't we take a short break?"  
  
Beatrice launches into the air with a huffing sound, circling over to Wirt. "A break? What for? We've only been walking for an hour or so."  
  
"To, well," Wirt stammers, flushing under the force of Beatrice's critical gaze and trying hard not to squirm. "Rest for a moment, you know, whatnot."  
  
She gives a few hard flaps, zipping in front of him and then lazily drawing level. "We don't need to rest. What are you, like, twelve?"  
  
"I'm fift-"   
  
"Kids don't need to rest," she says, "just look at your brother."  
  
Ahead, Greg is crouched on the dirt on all fours. Suddenly, he springs forward, ahead of George Washington, and then the frog jumps on his head. "No, silly, you have to jump  _over_ me!" Greg says insistently.  
  
"Yeah, well. He's always like that." Greg does have unlimited energy. Wirt cam be energetic if he wants, if he in't using nearly all of that energy to hold back the ocean inside of an organ that will soon reach its limits. "Come on. It doesn't have to be a long break. Just a few minutes," he nearly begs, feeling his bladder pulse. _Hnng. I have to go._ Then he can nonchalantly excuse himself into the trees as if he just thought to relieve himself, instead of dying to do so.  
  
"We're not stopping," Beatrice says irritably, and that is that. Great.   
  
He has to go. His bladder sends urgent warning signals through his body, and the strain of clenching his muscles is making him sweat. They walk for a while more, but his focus narrows to taking small steps, periodically clenching his thighs, and even pressing a hand to his groin when he's absolutely sure that no one is looking.  
  
Things are getting really bad. His abdomen is a hypersensitive ball of pressure that shakes constantly. If he stands up too straight, his bladder stretches, but if he bends over too much, his bladder squeezes. Both feelings are terrible.   
  
He groans; this is ridiculous. There are trees surrounding them, and he could literally step behind any of them to go. He just has to tell the others to stop. _Say something. Just do it already._  
  
"Hey, Beatrice, I have to-" He immediately stops and reddens as soon as Beatrice circles closer to him. "Um-"  
  
They've stopped walking. She looks at him expectantly. Wirt is unable to remain still, so he shifts from foot to foot and keeps his eyes downcast, embarrassed. "I have to... ask you something." _Oh god, I have to pee._   
  
"Well?" she asks.  
  
"What's your favorite color?" he blurts out before he tells Beatrice that he feels like he's going to burst.   
  
"My favorite color?" she asks skeptically, giving him a strange look.  
  
"Yeah, like, is it maybe blue?" he rambles, nearly trembling with the effort of standing still and not wetting himself. "Cause, you know, bluebird. Am I right?" A nervous chuckle escapes. _Oh god, stop talking._ Talking is fifty times harder when he's desperate to pee.  
  
She merely scowls at him. "Yeah, no."   
  
Greg has stopped paying leapfrog to stare at them. He tilts his head. "Wirt, do you have to-"  
  
"Let's keep walking!" Wirt bites out hastily, his voice cracking. He walks ahead of both of them and swallows hard, willing himself not to turn around when he feels a stare on the back of his head.   
  
Maybe he should've just let Greg blurt it out and get this torture over with.   
  
Beatrice sighs and says something that is almost certainly insulting, but Wirt doesn't hear. He has to go so badly. He has to go so badly that, a few minutes later, a step too big makes something warm trickle into his underwear.  
  
Mildly panicked, he completely freezes, then drops to a knee to pretends to tie his shoe, using the opportunity to dig his heel into his crotch. It provides brief and very minimal relief.  
  
"Wirt, come on! And pick up the pace," Beatrice calls sharply to him.  
  
"R-Right!"  
  
He tries to, he really does, but that simply won't work. His steps are small and slow and careful. He bites his lip and takes shallow, quick breaths. "Ah..." Wirt breathes, clenching his rapidly tiring muscles. He's reaching his limit.  
  
The worst part about all of this is that he's torturing himself. There's no lack of places to go, and nobody would stop him if he just walked off into the trees. All he has to do is speak up.   
  
He absolutely has to speak up. He stops walking entirely, a spasm of desperation overcoming him and releasing a steady dribble, darkening the front of his pants. "Beatrice," he calls out in a shaky voice. Both hands plunge down between his legs to stop the flow just as the bird turns her attention to him. Even though his cloak effectively hides the movement, he feels mortified and childish.   
  
"What is it now?" Her irritated tone flips to confusion when she sees his awkward, trembling stance. "What are you doing? Are you going to be sick?" She flies closely to inspect the bright flush on his sweaty face.   
  
"No, I - we need to stop," he gasps, face burning. "I can't- I have to-"  
  
"Wirt needs to pee!" Greg cuts him off with the announcement, thank heavens. He skips over, pulls back Wirt's cloak, and tuts in a tone of exasperation.   
  
"Augh- Greg!" He instantly removes his hands but crosses one leg over the other. Beatrice is staring at him with surprise, but she quickly gets over it.  
  
"Um, well- don't just stand there," she says.  
  
"I need a minute!" Wirt nearly pants, then strides in the opposite direction as fast as his bladder will allow. He goes a few yards, steps behind a tree, and fumbles with his suspenders. Greg and Beatrice are close enough that they'll hear him, but he can't go another step.  
  
His bladder decides to let go right then. He inhales sharply as a gush of warmth soaks the front of his pants, then presses his hand there hard to stop it. "Nonono please," he groans desperately. _Just hold on a little longer! Another few seconds!_  
  
He almost pops the button trying to get it undone, and finally he's going. "Ah... Ahh..." Embarrassing little gasps escape his mouth. It just feels so good. His eyes water and his head swims with the sheer force of relief.   
  
Wirt soaks a bush in front of him for almost two minutes. When the haze of desperation clears, and he buttons himself back up, he realizes how wet his pants have become. _Ugh._ The stain covers the front of his pants and trails a thin, dark line on the front of his left thigh.   
  
He groans softly. There's nothing he can do about it now.

Feeling humiliated, but notably relieved, Wirt makes his way back to Beatrice and Greg. He remembers to swish his cloak shut just after Beatrice sees the stain.  
  
"Geez, you should've spoken up earlier," she says, shaking her head as she jumps from a tree branch.   
  
Wirt reddens, protectively gripping the front of the fabric. "I _did._ You wouldn't stop."   
  
"I would have if I knew you were going to wet yourself."  
  
"I didn't! The button-"  
  
"Tell that to you pants."  
  
"The button got stuck," Wirt snaps defensively, looking away.   
  
"You shouldn't have waited until the last minute anyway!"  
  
"Guys, guys!" Greg yells, jumping in front of Wirt. "Um. And bluebird! It's okay!" He tries to soothe them with smiles, patting Wirt's arm.  
  
They both fall silent.  
  
"Accidents happen," Greg says cheerily. "It's okay, Wirt."  
  
"I didn't-" He begins to protest, then stops. He's fighting a losing battle.   
  
"I would have stopped if you said you had to go," Beatrice says. "I mean, I'm not _cruel._ "   
  
Wirt is silent for a moment, trying to will the flush from his face. He sighs. "Fine. Thank you, Greg. Let's just keep going."   
  
Beatrice makes a noise of agreement. Wirt grimaces at how cold and wet his pants are, sighs for the thousandth time, and follows.

**Author's Note:**

> so i am actually still alive (and have also made a tumblr wow)
> 
> I just don't get home until late because extracirriculars and after I do my homework I'm too tired to do anything but go to bed XP 
> 
> except the wirt omo cult has sucked me in so 
> 
> ye
> 
> (tbh I feel so bad for the people that come into this 8-13 fic fandom looking for normal fic and then find out that a quarter of it is weird kink XD)


End file.
